


hold you here, my loveliest friend

by theragingstorm



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, And Lots of It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm
Summary: Nothing about them was supposed to change.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 47





	1. THEN: part one

**Author's Note:**

> A (late) gift for the lovely people on my Dickbabs Discord server. Title from "Crush" by Cigarettes After Sex.

The decision to move in together had been one prompted by coming of age, loss, and the truly insane rent rates in every single nicer area of Gotham. 

When they both moved out of their fathers' houses for good, he was twenty-two, she was twenty-five. He had broken up with his beloved girlfriend of three years six months prior, a little time after a botched home invasion and the flash of a gun had left her paralyzed from the waist down. Fresh from yet another graduate degree, she had a new job offer at the Spencer & Associates law firm, and he had just registered for nursing school, and had just acquired a second and a third adopted sibling -- and a pilot’s license, and a working knowledge of every single good pizza place in San Francisco. Barbara’s father had started dating an old flame of his again, which she'd taken as a long-overdue sign to leave home, and Dick had just come back to the East Coast from his friends’ place in California, did _not_ want to move back in with his own father, and the fact of the matter was, they both needed a place to live.

It was a balmy spring evening when it happened. Both of them, surrounded by piles of cardboard boxes and blue plastic tubs from Lowes, staying a floor apart from each other at the same Holiday Inn. Barbara got two paper cups of Keurig coffee from the machine in the lobby downstairs, remembering to sweeten his more than hers, and headed to his room to propose her plan. 

Bathed in the flickering blue light of the little hotel-room television, sipping their mediocre coffee, her friend listened without interruption as she outlined her plan. 

“I already have an apartment lined up, and I know you don’t yet,” she said bluntly, presenting the papers to him with a flourish, and a folder full of photographs on her phone, showcasing each room, each broad window, the view of the brownstone building from the street. He picked one up at a time and studied them. “But I don’t get my first paycheck at Spencer for a while yet, and I know you saved all the money Bruce ever gave you.”

“So you’re just moving in with me for my money?” he spoke up at last, his tone teasing. “Ah. I knew it.”

She laughed despite herself, like he always was able to get her to. 

“Oh, that’s just a side benefit.” She reached over and put a hand over his. His were rough from years of acrobatics as a child, gymnastics, even the high school cheerleading team, but they warmed hers. She said in a faux-covert whisper: “I just don’t want to have to drink alone on Friday nights.”

It was his turn to laugh, his blue eyes crinkling. For the first time, a strange, fluttering sensation arose in Barbara’s chest. But she easily shrugged it off. 

“Fair enough, drinking alone is depressing as hell.” He set down the papers, looking earnestly at her. “So what’s the address, and when can we move in?”

The apartment was big, with white walls, dark wooden floors, and thin white curtains swaying in the breeze from the open windows. Her boxes overflowed with her books, spilling open across the floor when she dropped one, pages fluttering in time with the curtains, the old, off-white paper smelling slightly of vanilla. He hung his old Flying Graysons poster, now professionally framed, on the wall, and lined the surfaces in his room with photographs of his many, many loved ones. They opened the boxes full of each others’ clothes, and she teased him for his, holding each brightly printed button-down up in front of her with exaggerated horror. In retaliation, he stole one of her sundresses and she had to chase him all over the apartment, wheeling with one hand and reaching out for him with the other while she yelled rebukes and he, standing on the couch, insisted that it was his now and he was going to wear it to brunch with his family that Sunday. 

It took them quite a long time to get unpacked.

By the time everything was out, and every piece of furniture had finally been settled into place, and the individual beds in the separate bedrooms had been made, and the copper pots in the kitchen gleamed in the May sunshine, it had lapsed into a peaceful Saturday, the golden light of late afternoon slanting through each of the windows. She came home from work, practically collapsing against the door, expecting to have to put away the last of her books, instead finding, much to her shock, that they had been laid out in her shelves already -- alphabetically by author, like she always insisted. 

Dick, from where he stood in the kitchen, shrugged and offered her a half-smile while she gaped. 

“What the hell?” she exclaimed, setting her bag down on the floor. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Babs, I don’t start school for months.” He came over with his phone in hand; she glanced at the screen, seeing that his last outgoing call had been to what they both considered the best Szechuan place in Gotham. “I have to do something with my time besides call _Dateline_ with my solutions to their cases.”

“Yeah, _that_ I wish you wouldn’t do,” she said, rolling up to him. He scoffed, and she peered up at him, a half-wry, half-genuine smile on her lips. “But...thank you.”

“For you, Babs? Always.”

He bent so that they could hug properly, and, her face pressed to his shoulder, she breathed in the smell of laundry detergent and the light scent of his Lush soap. The stress of the long day all melted away at once, and she was content. 

That night, eating their takeout on the couch in their pajamas, her long hair in a topknot, happily watching some mindless comedy she loved to critique and he genuinely found funny, was to be oft-repeated, in various forms. Through the long, miserably hot summer, where the heat made the pavement shimmer and the air hang still, she bought a cold brew press and they both drank far too much iced coffee; he volunteered while she worked and when he left the animal shelter he’d picked up shifts at, he stopped at home to show her the puppy he’d gotten for Damian. Through the evenings, sometimes they perused various streaming services for movies, or sometimes they would just sit and read, in the peaceful quiet. 

When his classes started, she saw less of him. But as the leaves began to change from pale green to pale gold and a chill began to creep into the noisy, dirty city air, she could still go to sleep every night knowing he was there, just across the hallway. 

Winter came, and with the falling snow, along with the comforting lull of his company, the flutters in her chest began to increase. She found herself lingering a little too long on him, time and again, watching him drink his too-sweet coffee and noticing the shape of his brows, the way his lashes brushes his cheekbones. He told her about one of his particularly stupid classmates and she made some sarcastic quip or other, and when he laughed, her heart tripped over itself. On an icy morning, the heat turned up high enough to leave steam on the frosted windows, he came meandering out in just a towel, looking for a spare bar of soap, and she froze in place, staring, her cheeks hot, unable to stop herself. 

She went right back in the shower herself after he was done, turning the water on as cold as the hail outside, pummeling down on her, but it couldn’t erase the image imprinted on her lids. 

The holidays arrived, and they made plans to see their families together on the day Christmas and Hanukkah overlapped. That morning, before they drove off, it was still early, and the pink dawn light bathed the fresh snow on the pavements the color of rose petals. She’d bought him a multicolored scarf he’d been eyeing for a while along with a small clay elephant statuette, reminiscent of his childhood days at the circus. And he’d somehow managed to find her a first-edition, decades-old copy of Edith Hamilton’s _Mythology_ in mint condition, her favorite book as a child. She’d thrown her arms around him, embracing him, thinking of how he was one of her best friends in the world, how much she loved him -- and for once, the thought brought her up short. 

It lingered on her mind as the months kept passing, as winter hardened like steel, then melted into unending water. Springtime came again, even under the gray Gotham skies, the leaves on the sidewalk trees budded and the flowers began to bloom. Before she knew it, it had been a whole year since they first moved in together. 

Then one unseasonably chilly night, rainclouds roiling across the sky like cresting waves, she rolled into her home, makeup smeared, her black dress wrinkled and askew. She collapsed momentarily, taking a minute to control her breathing, struggling not to cry. Then she sat up straight again and slammed the door behind her. 

Dick, who’d been intently doing homework on the couch, jumped. 

“You’re back early,” was the first thing he said. “It’s only ten-forty-five; I wasn’t expecting you home till one.”

“I am. So. _Goddamn_ . Sick of dating,” she replied, reaching down to yank off her shoes. “Why do I let Dinah talk me into these things? Just because _she thinks_ it's been too long since I last had a partner, since I last had sex. So goddamn _sick_ \--”

“Whoa, hey.” He dropped his notebooks to come over to her. “What is it? What happened?”

She momentarily resisted, staring defiantly up at him. He waited.

“Well. To begin with. The guy I went to drinks with turned out to be a total lightweight. He was dizzy and rambling three beers in, and when he was rambling, oh, he was very _honest_ with me. So honest. Honest enough to admit that he only took the date with me because he’d never fucked a handicapped girl before.”

Dick recoiled, anger and disgust and sympathy flickering across his expression at once. 

“So I left him with the tab and got out of there. But then he tried to follow me to my car, _really_ determined to satisfy his curiosity I guess, and yelling at him to go away didn’t work.”

“Barbara --” He looked horrified. “Did anything --”

“No.” She smiled grimly. “I hit him in the face with my purse. He’s got a glass jaw as well as a shitty tolerance.”

Dick smiled a bit too, though it looked strained. 

“Dating as a disabled woman is fucking awful. Either people want to fix me, or they’re repulsed by me, or I’m the subject of their disgusting fetish."

“I kinda get where you’re coming from,” Dick sighed. He sat down next to her, putting one arm around her shoulder. “And Babs, I’m _so_ sorry. I'm here for you, okay? What do you need me to do?"

“You don’t have to do anything.” She took a deep breath. “I just need a cup of tea, possibly laced with something stronger, a hot shower, and some sleep. I’ll be alright.”

“I want to do _something,_ ” he insisted. He wrapped both arms around her and tugged her into an embrace before she could protest that she was fine; without meaning to, she found herself breathing him in. It was a cool night, but he was warm; nestled in close to him, she felt as though she were lying in sunlight. “Those douchebags don’t mean anything, Babs. You’re a fantastic person and you…” She didn’t understand why, but his voice hitched. “You deserve someone who really likes you, really loves you.”

“Love seems like a lot to ask for,” she joked drily; his shoulders tightened. 

“You _should_ ask for it, though,” he replied. Completely serious. 

And she found she had nothing to say to that.

They pulled slightly apart. 

Barbara found herself, yet again, taking him in. For the first time, she actually allowed herself to see, to really _see,_ the exquisite beauty of his face, his delicate cheekbones, thick brows and long lashes, of the dense, soft, waves of his black hair. She felt the firmness and strength of the arms around her, of the chest and torso pressed against her own; a rush of heat began to build in her. His big hands caressed over her back and shoulders, rubbing gently, strands of her hair ghosting over his fingers. 

It had been a long week. She was still relatively new to the firm but had been slammed with back-to-back cases, working long hours into the evening to prepare for her appearances in court, her friends were all out of town, her father and new stepmother were working as much as she was, and three horrible consecutive dates had just been the cherry on top. And Dinah was right. It _had_ been too long since she'd last had someone in her bed. She was tired and lonely, and there was an aching hole in her chest that nothing had seemed to fill. 

And there he was in front of her, looking at her, making those feelings rise in her chest once again. 

She wasn’t sure who moved forward first; all she knew all of a sudden she was cupping his face, his hands sliding up her back, as they kissed. It was soft at first, surprising her with the tentativity in which he touched her. His fingers curled through her hair, gliding through it, almost like he was caressing it like a living thing, gliding over her back gently. His lips pressed to hers almost shyly, their kisses slow, soft skin brushing against each other almost like a flutter. 

Dick moved around, then knelt all the way down in front of her wheelchair, shifting till she realized, blood rushing to her cheeks, that he was leaning in to her between her spread knees. They both slid forward, until she felt her breasts pressed against his chest, and their kisses grew more intense, both of their breathing growing faster, more erratic. 

“Wait, wait, stop,” she murmured, and he pulled away at once, both of them panting slightly, lips barely an inch from each other. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. 

It was barely a moment more before she began again to press tiny, quick kisses to his lips, to which he wrapped her in his arms again and she began to lose herself in him.

Her cheeks and chest burned, and she could feel her pulse beating low and heavy in her belly, then in between her thighs. She bit at her lip, accidentally nipping his too; he let out a soft groan, low in his throat, and her pulse throbbed. 

His fingers brushed along a patch of exposed skin, and her heart fluttered.

Against the window, she could hear the first few drops of rain begin to fall. She shivered faintly, leaning into his touch. 

“Always so cold,” he murmured, and his tone was less shy, more openly affectionate. 

She smiled wryly, their faces moving close together again, so that his nose bumped hers, making them both laugh embarrassedly. The faint scent of his bergamot-scented soap still clung to his warm skin; she absently noticed one of the dimples in his left cheek, lifting her hand to trace her thumb over it, her fingers cupping his jaw. His forehead touched against hers, his hands still on her back, her shoulders, and longing, desire, building in her, flickering like a flame. 

“Dick…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t...I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. And it seems like that...”

Dick withdrew slightly, his blue eyes round with shock. 

“Are we…” He swallowed hard, his throat visibly hitching. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other with visible discomfort, as though he were trying to move around something. “Is that what we’re doing?” It was barely more than a whisper. “Is that what you want?”

She was so afraid to answer; _yes_ was on her lips, almost formed, almost real. 

But she thought then that she had gone too far, even just bringing up the possibility, that she had frightened him off, and she swallowed hard, ashamed.

“Look, Dick, I...I..."

“Yeah. I know. Babs, I don’t...jump into bed with just anyone,” he continued. “I only...I only ever want to be with people I already care about, already love.”

“And you don’t love me like _that_ ,” Barbara agreed. 

A strange expression flickered across his face; he swallowed hard again before he spoke. 

“But you _are_ my friend,” he murmured. He leaned in again, their lips an inch from each other. “And I do -- I _do_ love you." It seemed, for some reason, like it was hard for him to say. "I don’t want to mess this up, I -- I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was an inflection on those words she couldn’t place, making her heart beat faster again, her breath hitch. 

"Me neither. But do you -- " She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. "Do you want to do this?"

Another strange expression flickered across Dick’s face. 

“If -- if you don’t want to.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll never ask you about it again.”

“I know. I know, Babs.”

She closed her eyes. 

In the next moment, his lips were on hers again. She groaned from deep in her throat, her pulse hammering through her veins as she stroked his cheek, her other hand grabbing, snatching at the back of his shirt, then tangling in his hair. He yelped slightly when she accidentally tugged, then moaned softly, happily, into her mouth; the sound made heat pulse low in her belly. 

He slid further forward, against the hem of her skirt, unintentionally pushing it up to her waist, off her thighs. She couldn’t feel the soft night air on her bare legs, but she felt it through her panties, the breeze cool against her wet heat.

She growled low in her throat and tugged harder at his hair, feeling a rush at his moans, his soft whine.

“My room or yours?” he managed to say, and she could not deny the thrill she felt at his assent.

“Mine,” she purred, nipping at his lip. “For now.”

He half-ran across the apartment; she laughed, loud and genuine, before she rolled after him.

The rain was now drumming insistently against the glazed glass, faint rumbles of thunder in the distance. She didn’t bother to shut the door behind her, just moved slowly across the hardwood floor, to where he stood before her bed, his shirt still rumpled. Her eyes flicked down to the front of his jeans, where a noticeable bulge had formed; she ducked her head, licking her lips. 

Her hands went to the back of her dress, before faltering on the zipper. Would he still want this when he saw her, _all_ of her? All of her body’s imperfections, its failings, would they repulse him like they had so many others?

Dick seemed to see her hesitation to make the first move, for he grasped the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and away. Barbara froze, then openly stared at the movement of his body as he did. She dared to roll closer, lifting her hand. He nodded, and her fingers then traced along the ridge of his collarbone, across the rise and fall of his chest, down along the flat planes of his stomach. Her touch then teased slightly along his hips, gliding along the hem of his jeans, making him shudder. His big hands came down to close over hers, guiding her, giving wordless permission to touch him further; her palm slid over the front of his jeans, feeling him through the fabric. He gulped, shuddering again, and, emboldened, she cupped him, squeezing and stroking him through the stiff fabric. 

“Babs, slow down,” he choked out, and she obliged, but could not stop a faint smirk from crossing her lips. He looked down to see her expression, grinning a bit sheepishly, and her smile widened. 

Still nervous, but now unfaltering, she pulled her hands away and slowly pulled the zipper on her little black dress down; peeling it from her shoulders, chest, and eventually sliding it out from under her and shucking it down her legs. 

Her fingers trembled as she looked up at him again, but her gaze was steady. 

His eyes grew wide as he took in her body, then softened, the brilliant blue shining with awe. He gasped softly as she unclasped her bra, his breath coming out all at once, shaking, as he stared openly at her bare body. He bit his lip, blinking slowly, before he spoke again. 

“You look beautiful,” he murmured. “Amazing.”

Barbara suddenly found herself blinking too rapidly, her eyes stinging. 

Too much.

“Pants off,” she replied, and he eagerly obeyed, eyes still glimmering as he bent and removed the last of his clothes, then stood up again. A little bit of shyness crept into his expression; her eyes grew wide. 

The sight of his naked, strong limbs shrouded in the soft shadows and bathed in the faint light from the window stole her breath away. Her gaze flicked down, and she saw that he was already hard, erection red and dripping, leaving smears of precum against his flat belly. He blushed faintly just as she licked her lips, her skin burning. 

Barbara hauled herself out of her wheelchair and up onto her bed, spreading her hands forward, beckoning. Dick all but bounded forward, clambering up her bed on all fours, leaping forward to catch her face in his hands, kissing her, kneeling between her open thighs again. Then his fingers traced over the sensitive skin of her neck, tracing the dips and planes of her shoulders, her collarbones. She caught him around the wrists, this time, guiding his rough palms over the swells of her breasts; feeling him groan into her mouth as he cupped them, caressing. Her hands ran down over the muscles of his back until he hoisted himself upward and she grabbed his ass, smirking against his lips. On an instinct, she gave the taut flesh a sharp swat, and he yelped. 

“Oh my God, did I --?”

“No, you’re okay.” He looked almost shy when he spoke again. “I liked it.”

“That’s good to know,” she breathed. Her nails dug into the side of his hips, and he shuddered in her arms. 

It was so strange to hold her friend like this, her friend since their childhood, who had seen her in every bad, awkward, and embarrassing situation imaginable. But at the same time, as his fingers slid in between the two of them, along the dip of her waist, she felt less strange than she should’ve. She felt thrilled, she felt _good,_ as he kept touching her, as her clit swelled. 

“Can I...”

“Yes.”

She knew he would never hurt her. 

His finger dipped into her pussy, making her gasp as he rubbed along her lips, then slid into her. His thumb circled her clit as his finger moved inside her, stroking her, until she came quickly with a gasp and a cut-off yell, clamping her lip between her teeth, her cheeks and chest burning. 

He pressed a small kiss to her belly as he withdrew his fingers, straightening up again. In her haze, she didn’t notice that his kiss had been right over the scar the bullet had left. 

Barbara slid back a bit, until her shoulder blades were pressed against the headboard. A bout of uncertainty, of shyness almost, swept over her. Still hard to believe that he could look at _her_ like that, with open lust and affection in his eyes. 

“Dick,” she managed to say, “One last time. Are you sure?”

He nodded without a single beat of hesitation, completely willing. 

“Okay.”

She fumbled around in her nightstand, then waited as the foil ripped between his fingers. Still sitting up, she watched, shivering, as he closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm around her waist. He pushed inside her _so_ slowly, till she was shaking all over, almost unable to process that he was _inside_ her, filling her. 

“Ohshit,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his grip around her waist tightening slightly. 

“Oh...God…” she managed to say, low in her throat. 

He moved slowly at first; she flattened her back against the headboard, her nails digging into his back as his thrusts grew faster. She patted one shoulder blade, breathlessly asking him to go harder, and he obliged, panting and shuddering as his skin slapped against hers, his face an inch from hers. His eyes were so wide, hair wild and disheveled, lips swollen and reddened; he pressed them to hers, and she groaned into his mouth, the movement of their bodies making the headboard rattle. 

She cried out, long and low and almost plaintive, when she came again; he followed only a moment later, shaking in her arms. They both breathed hard, gazing into each other’s eyes for a minute. Before Barbara ducked her head, her heart still beating too fast. Dick stripped off the condom and tossed it in the trashcan near her bed, settling against her. He leaned further forward even as she looked away, pressing little kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her neck, gentle at first, before they began to grow heated again; he sighed low in his throat. 

“You want to go again?” she asked, her voice still rough. 

“If you don’t --”

She shut him up with another kiss, nipping his lip. 

Part of her was shocked at herself, the ease in which she’d slipped into this. The roughness, the desperation in which they’d reached for each other; had it really been so long since either of them had had sex, had been in a relationship? Because that was it, wasn’t it? They’d both needed something, and they were both there for each other; _he_ was there for _her,_ like he always was. Like he always had been. 

Her chest grew warm at the thought as she kept kissing him. 

Heat began to pool between her legs again, until under his touches, she was soon aroused again, slightly sore; when he touched her clit again it _ached_ and she had to bite her lip to keep from shrieking. 

“I have an idea,” she said breathlessly. 

She pushed him back a little bit, until he sat further down along the bed. When she looked at him he was half-hard, hands braced on her now-messy covers, gazing up at her through his eyelashes almost shyly. 

The rain hammered against her windows, thunder rumbling faintly as she took a deep breath and moved forward. She lay down between his legs, bracing her weight on one forearm, running her other hand up along the toned, full muscle of his thigh, tracing her finger along the inside of it, making him stiffen. 

She took a deep breath and wrapped her hand around the base of him, stroking along his length; above her, he gasped. When she lowered her head, drawing her tongue along the head of his cock, his hand flew up to cover his mouth, making a muffled, strangled noise against his fingers.

As she wrapped her lips around him, she felt his other hand touch along her back, her shoulders, before cupping her head, stroking along her hair. She shuddered a bit at his gentle touch, before pulling off. He briefly looked surprised before she indicated that he lay down next to her, then his surprise was combined with obvious astonishment. 

For a moment, she thought again she had overstepped -- before he slid down. She rolled onto her side, and a moment later she felt his fingers tracing along her waist, her belly, touching his mouth to the inner plane of her hips. 

Barbara gripped his waist with one hand as she went back to working on him; she couldn’t feel when he lifted one of her thighs, gently pulling it aside, but a moment later she felt his breath on her exposed, aching cunt. Then his tongue, dipping between her lips.

She almost _choked_ ; she was already _far_ too sensitive, and his mouth on her pussy, sucking at her clit, was almost too much, too much and too soon. 

Then she sucked him harder as he buried his face between her legs, laving his tongue over her swollen, puffy lips, teasing it along her clit. 

She could only imagine how he felt; the hot pleasure came in spikes, almost painful, agonizing. His thighs began to tremble under her grip, and she swirled her tongue around him, sliding her lips further down him, and almost an instant later he came, bursting all at once into her mouth. She withdrew, licking her lips, swallowing, a little inkling of pride in herself growing in her chest. 

Moments later, she felt her own belly tightening, he sucked at her and she came with another throaty cry, looking down in a haze, seeing him lift his head, chin and lips dark and wet, eyes hooded and lashes fluttering slow. 

He heaved himself upwards and they both collapsed down along her bed, they and the mattress groaning softly. Her hair fell across the pillows as their chests rose and fell in sync, breathing together, next to each other. 

Rain pattered against the windows. The next rumble of thunder was fainter, more distant. 

She turned and looked at him. His cheeks were still darkened, and when he glanced back at her, he bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something. 

“Barbara...what we just did…”

The reality of it hit her all at once and her breath rushed out a gasp. 

“Ohhh...oh God. What we just did.” She pressed her hands over her face. “What we just did...fuck. Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what we just did.”

She dropped her hands to glare at him.

“Sorry. Not the time.”

Barbara groaned, grimacing. 

“Babs, I’m sorry. I know it was really sudden, and neither of us saw it coming, uh, so to speak, sorry, but...you _don’t_ regret it, do you?” Dick sounded anxious, afraid to hear her reply. “I mean...did I do something wrong?”

She sighed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she told him, her voice gentle. “That’s the thing. I asked this of you, I _wanted_ all of what we did.”

“Me too.” He looked relieved, and something else...hopeful? Why would he look hopeful? 

“But you’re one of my best friends,” she continued. “And I care about you, and the fact that we were both just lonely and upset and frustrated shouldn’t be a reason to ruin that. Your friendship matters too much to me.”

She must’ve imagined the hopeful look on his face, because all traces of it vanished at her words.

Instead, Dick bit his lip, fidgeting in place, glancing out towards the window, like the gentle thrumming of the rain had suddenly caught his attention. 

“What if it didn’t have to ruin it?” he asked.

She started.

“You matter _so_ much to me too, Barbara. If you don’t want to wreck our friendship…” He took a deep breath. “Then we won’t. I’ll always be here for you, in whatever way you need me, but nothing about _us_ has to change.”

Barbara sat up, looking at him. 

"I mean," he added. "If -- if that's what you need. What you want."

“Nothing has to change…” she mused. “What are you saying, that we could do this, whenever we needed to, but _we_ wouldn’t change?”

He blinked hard, then tilted his head to glance back at her, raising one eyebrow.

“I assume you’re familiar with the concept, Babs.”

She lightly swatted his shoulder, making him actually chuckle.

"You sure you're okay with that? Like you said, just falling into bed with people isn't like you."

"Well, you're not just people," he reasoned. "I already care about you. You're already my friend Barbara, and that's what matters, ultimately. Are you sure that _you_ \--"

"Yes. Yes, I am," she said. "I'd like that."

They were quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t mind if you date other people,” she added, though in truth, the concept made her chest squeeze. “Since _we’re_ not dating. And I expect you’ll be okay with me doing that in return.”

“Sure. But if either of us starts to date someone seriously…” His eyes clouded at that, his jaw tightening. “We stop, okay?”

“Of course." She smiled faintly at him, making his expression soften. "Deal?"

"So businesslike."

She almost leaned in to kiss his forehead, but even after what they had done, it felt too intimate. At the same time, he pulled her in for a quick embrace, similar to what they had always done. Then he began to climb off, posing to walk away, to head back to his own room.

“No, it’s okay,” she said despite herself. “You’re already in a bed, you might as well sleep here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. No problem.” 

He climbed back in and under the covers, pulling them up to his chin as she slid under too. They both sank into the pillows, and she reveled in the heat of his body under her sheets, warming her to the bone. She marveled faintly at the roughness of his hands again, how comforting they felt, the solidity of his body, and the softness of the rest of his skin. 

“Like when we were kids,” she recalled, and he huffed softly, smiling. “And we’d build forts out of Bruce’s silk pillows and goosedown duvets and sleep under them on top of our homework, surrounded by piles of candy that we weren’t supposed to be eating.”

“And he’d wait to yell at us till the morning, after we’d already had our fun.” Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her, making her feel even warmer, more content. But then Barbara wondered if she was imagining, again, the melancholy in his eyes, even as he kept smiling. “Yeah. We’ve had some good times together.”

“The best. Always.”

He drifted off to sleep still holding her, as she listened to the last of the rain peter out, leaving the city shrouded in nighttime mist. She gazed out at the dark, soft sky and wondered to herself, wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into.


	2. THEN: part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything else aside, I think this is the first time I've really written Donna. I hope she turned out okay.

The next day, Dick had very little time to think about the implications of what had happened between them -- largely because he’d forgotten to set an alarm on his phone. First thing in the morning, he leapt from her bed just as she began to stir, practically punching the button on the coffee maker as he fumbled out a to-go cup. The last thought he had of her was his being startled by hearing the shower running in the distance as he looked for his keys, before he ran out the door and to the hospital. 

The whole day, he was preoccupied with nursing school, with going to the hospital to assist patients, so intent on what he was doing that an old woman with pneumonia told him that his smoldering blue look reminded her of Paul Newman in  _ Cat On A Hot Tin Roof _ , which she had gone to see in theaters by the way, and could he be a dear and adjust her oxygen tank?

He slumped out of West Mercy Hospital after nearly ten hours, as that Friday morning passed into afternoon and then early evening, collapsing into the driver’s seat of his car, looking up and breathing hard. 

It was only _ then _ that it all hit him. 

Shock followed him all the way home; it was only muscle memory that allowed him to drive, that barely kept him from running red lights through half the city. He stopped, almost numbly, several times, like he had promised, to get coffee beans and fresh vegetables at the co-op, to buy bread at the bakery, with the girl at the checkout who gave him an odd look as he paid, to buy new towels to replace the old ones at the apartment. Blinking under the too-bright fluorescents of Bed Bath and Beyond, trying to breathe deep in the too-sterile air. A middle-aged employee, helping him on his way to the towels, inadvertently directed him past the his-and-hers pillows and cups, the toothbrush-stand sets for couples and families, and, looking at them all, his breath started shaking, right there in the aisle. 

At _pillows_ and  _ toothbrushes _ . Because the idea of being part of a  _ couple _ with the person he had developed feelings for, let alone a  _ family _ , had just been shot dead, right there in his home. 

Towels in hand, Dick stepped out to slump against the side of his Prius. The rear window was rolled down, letting the scents of the bread and the coffee permeate into the night air, juxtaposing against the sharp lights of the parking lot and the faint noises of city traffic in the near distance. 

He sighed miserably, loading the towels into the back. When he climbed back into the driver’s seat and turned the key, the radio station brought an old love ballad to life, crooning through the speakers. If Bruce were here, he would’ve aggressively turned it off, trying to be helpful in his own way; if his siblings were here, they would’ve had some comment to make about it. His friends might’ve tried to say something kind, or might’ve just looked at him with sympathy, veering into pity. 

The song lingered in the mild spring evening as he drove, weaving through the omnipresent choke of Gotham traffic. He gathered the armful of shopping, rumpling the front of his blue scrubs, hitting the elevator button with his elbow. Stumbling through the front door of their apartment just as the Fitbit on his wrist blinked  _ 8:47 p.m. _ , fully ready to just have cereal for dinner.

Instead, he was hit by a warm, savory smell curling through the air. Brightening a bit, he walked into the kitchen and set down all the bags. 

“Red lentil soup?” he guessed. It smelled just like how his mother had used to cook it, fragrant with butter and spices. Mary Grayson’s recipes tended towards simple, unfussy, and inexpensive, nothing you’d keep locked away in a safe, but Dick had still always been loath to share them with anyone he didn’t implicitly trust. “You surprise me, Babs.”

Barbara looked up from where she’d been bent over the soup pot, smiling at him. His heart turned over itself and he caught his breath when she did; he always seemed to be breathless around her now. 

“Not that surprising. We still had those canned lentils left over from last week.” She laid her cooking spoon down.

“Right, but what surprises me is that  _ you’re _ eating dinner so late.”

She wheeled over to him as he began putting the food and coffee beans away, dragging a hand through her hair. Her face had already been scrubbed clean of makeup, and her feet were bare. 

“The end of the Nolan vs. Schumacher trial ran a couple hours later than I thought it would, and by the time I got away, most of the restaurants in the neighborhood were closed.”

“Oh, who won the case?”

“I did.”

“Now  _ that’s _ not surprising.”

She laughed, and his heart stuttered again. 

The towels remained on the kitchen island as she poured the soup into bowls, sitting opposite each other. He took a sip off his spoon; it was seasoned perfectly. 

“Not that that bastard Kuttler made it easy for me.”

“Kuttler?”

“He argued in favor of the defendant. Noah Kuttler, my arch-enemy.”

“I thought that that Brian Durlin guy you were up against during the Reeves trial was your arch-enemy.”

“ _ All _ defense attorneys are my arch-enemies.”

It was his turn to laugh, taking a bigger spoonful of soup. 

“If it makes you feel any better, my day was full of difficult people too. A woman came in electrocuted because she stuck a fork in a toaster specifically to prove that nothing would happen. Two guys -- not one,  _ two _ \-- came in today with injured penises. One of them fell asleep naked on his couch and then began to roll over crotch-first on top of his cat, and one of them had his wife’s best friend hit him with a softball bat, which he insisted he didn’t do anything to deserve. And Mrs. Pearson with the twisted bowel keeps calling me Vikram; I’m not sure if she genuinely mixed me up with another male nursing student of distant Indian descent, or if she’s just racist.”

“Hm. Should I get out the whiskey?”

“Nah. We’ve had worse days. Worse weeks, even.”

“That's unfortunately true.”

The soup having improved his overall well-being, by nine-thirty Dick was happy to clear up the dishes, then to join her on the couch. She leaned into the cushions, a hair's breadth away from him, before she clicked on a movie she knew he liked; he longed to lean against her, to twine his arms around her, to stroke his fingers through her hair. The window had been left open, and he knew she so easily got cold. He wanted to pull her to him, to warm her.

Instead, she took the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped herself in it, breathing out easily. He did his best not to let her hear him sigh. 

About twenty minutes into the movie, he glanced over at her. Her eyes were far away, her lip clenched loosely between her teeth, brow furrowed slightly.

“What are you thinking about?”

She started, then met his gaze. 

“Policies I would implement if I represented our state on the Senate.”

“What on earth about this musical got you thinking about  _ that? _ ”

“It's a surprisingly political musical.” Barbara shifted under her blanket. “And...I was also thinking that I never thanked you for last night.”

That brought him up short.

“What’s...what’s there to thank me for?” He blinked rapidly. 

“I know, I know it’s a bit of a strange favor to do for your friend, but I’d really had such a rotten few days, and...I’m not sure I would’ve been calm and logical enough to win my case so effectively if you hadn’t been there for me, made me feel better.” She said all of this matter-of-factly, then smirked faintly. “Would’ve still won, I like to think. But the facts are, you did help me. So...thank you.”

The movie ticked by for another minute or so. 

“Oh. Babs, I’m always ready to help you, you know that.” He blinked hard, then swallowed. “You really want to continue this, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to do this again.” She glanced at the TV. “Neither of us have any more dates lined up right now, right? Besides, it’s been...God, it’s been like, what, a year and a half since either of us was in a serious relationship?”

“A year and a half, yeah.”

Barbara then gave him a long, askance look.

“What?”

“Has it been it a year and a half since you had last had sex, too?”

Dick almost choked on air, wincing.

“That bad, huh?”

“No, no, God no.” She smiled faintly, reassuringly, leaning her head on her hand, before sobering up again. “Not what I meant. Just, like you said, you don’t fall into bed with just anyone, right? In fact, I’ve almost only seen you do it with people you really like and love.”

_ Yeah, _ he thought.  _ And this was no exception. _

“And that the only reason you made this exception was because of our friendship.” She ran a hand affectionately down his arm. “Our other friends always said we know each other too well. I think now that’s  _ officially _ true.”

“I think it was already officially true when we knew each other’s sexual habits already.”

“Right.” She smirked faintly. “So, what, this is just the natural continuation of that?”

“If you put it like that.”

He should tell her. Tell her that he had made a mistake in suggesting this, that they couldn’t keep doing it, couldn’t keep pretending he saw her as nothing more than a friend. He should be honest, tell her how he really felt, why it had been so  _ easy _ for him, easy as breathing, to lavish his love upon her. 

But as she smiled faintly at him, her gratitude shining through, he realized that what they had done, that keeping their friendship intact through this arrangement, really  _ had _ helped her. Had made her happier. 

_ This is what she wants, _ he thought.  _ This and nothing more. If I told her how I feel about her, I would devastate our friendship, and worse, devastate  _ her _. How can I do that? _

He turned back to the television just as one of the romantic leads began to gaze upon the other, expression full of mixed awe and longing. 

He shut his eyes. 

“Babs, I’m probably gonna go to bed right after the movie, okay? Donna’s visiting from New York tomorrow, and she promised she’d pick me up for lunch at noon.”

“That’s okay.” Her glasses had slipped a little bit down her nose, hanging slightly crooked. He felt the curious urge to gently poke them back up, readjust them. “I have to be up late with another court case for Monday. Might sleep in a bit.” She met his eyes, furrowing her brow slightly. “Don’t subside on just coffee and sugary crap, okay? Eat something  _ real _ tomorrow morning.”

“No promises.”

He had to stifle another urge; this time, to kiss her forehead. 

Instead, he blinked rapidly, his eyes burning beneath his lids as he tried not to cry. Sighing, inclining back into the couch, unable to enjoy the movie anymore. 

He left the living room and her when it ended, the warm glow of the lamp turning the documents before her to sheets of gold. Sleep, when it came, was dreamless, fitful, and brought him no relief. 

* * *

When he awoke again, the springtime sun was streaming through the windows, and his head was pounding as though he hadn’t slept at all. Groaning miserably, he stumbled out of bed, brushing his teeth, then showering, in a dull haze. 

Saturday was his day off, but the prospect of having extra hours before him brought little comfort. 

So for a moment, Dick, his hair damp, a towel tied around his waist, leaned against the doorframe and sighed heavily. 

He stumbled through his bedroom door and to the kitchen, measuring the water for coffee -- then glancing into the living room as he did. 

Barbara had fallen asleep on the couch next to her files. Head resting on her arm, hair and glasses even more askew, the throw blanket having fallen off her to puddle on the floor. Her pajama top had ridden up a little, revealing her navel, the dip of her hips, the scar on the side of her belly. 

Dick broke out into a smile. So charmed by that sight that he almost completely forgot his grogginess and misery. 

She huffed slightly in her sleep, like she was dreaming of being exasperated by someone, then her lips curled up into a smirk. Maybe in her dream, she had a whole room full of defense attorneys to yell at with no judges to tell her not to. That would make her happy. 

He chuckled to himself, putting the coffee on to brew. The rich scent soon curled through the apartment, making Barbara shift on the couch, beginning to stir. 

He padded back over to her, putting one hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. One hand curled through her hair, brushing it out of her face. 

“Babs. Babs, wake up.”

She groaned, lifting her other hand to rub at her shut lids. 

“Like I said before: you’d better make some _actual_ food for yourself too, to go along with that coffee I smell,” she mumbled. 

“Wow, what would I ever do without you?” he asked, his voice teasing, warm.

“You don’t want to know,” she yawned, finally sitting up and opening her eyes. 

For a moment, he was confused by the expression that played across her face. Her eyes widening, then slowly dropping to become hooded. She blinked slowly, lazily, inclining her chin, her lips curving up into a smug smile. 

Then he remembered he was wearing nothing but a towel. And not a very big one, either. 

Dick felt the warmth of the blush spread across his face, then down to his chest. 

“Well, that’s  _ one _ way to greet me first thing in the morning.”

“It was never a big deal before,” he protested half-heartedly, his blush intensifying. 

“We could never look at each other like that before.”

Dick’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her smirking lips. Then further; the uppermost three buttons of her pajama top were undone, revealing the little freckles that dotted her collarbone, the pink that was gathering against her fair skin. He tried, he  _ really _ tried to stop himself from looking further still, but his eyes fell almost of their own accord to the valley of her cleavage, to the swells of her breasts, that coy glimpse that the semi-unbuttoned top allowed him. 

His skin still hot, he swallowed hard, clutching at the knot of his towel.

Barbara just chuckled softly.

“Isn’t it a little early for that, Dick?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he babbled, taking a step back. Her gaze was so unlike what he was used to from her, those pretty green eyes flashing like a cat’s. Even with her soft pajamas and messy hair, he felt rather like an antelope caught under the hungry stare of a lioness, and even stranger...he found that he _ liked _ that. 

Once again, though, she seemed to have misunderstood the hitch in his throat, the way he took a step back, because she gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice once again more normal, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Oh, Barbara, no.” He walked back up to her, bending so that their eyes were level. “Nothing you feel could ever make me uncomfortable.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she looked almost unsure, overwhelmed and astonished by his assertion. 

Then she kissed him again, and he groaned into her mouth, hands coming up from his towel to tangle in her hair, snarling it even further until it seemed to grow wild, twining over her shoulders like red ivy on a white wall. Her hands went to grip his waist, pulling him forward, till he almost tumbled onto the couch next to her; his towel knot was coming dangerously loose. He half-lay on his back, against the squashy black cushions where they’d read and watched movies together for the last year, and she climbed on top of him, lying against his body, bracing her weight on her hands as she kept kissing him. 

Her motions were so deliberate, so determined as she sucked and nipped at his lips, locks of hair spilling forward, clothed breasts pressed up against his bare chest. His hand caressed down her back, teasing at the hem of her pajama top, before tentatively slipping up under it. When she allowed it, he explored further, pressing his palm to her flat belly, gently stroking at the delicate skin over her ribcage. She huffed gently into his mouth, before guiding his touch, moving his fingers through the fabric, up the lines of her body to the curve of her left breast. He was so used to her rough hands, her strong shoulders and arms -- they had done gymnastics together as children and teenagers, had lifted weights together as adults -- that once again, the softness of her almost took him aback. 

He cupped her tit, swallowing her gasps into his mouth while his fingers gently played with her nipple, the edge of his hand brushing over the warm hollow where he could feel her heartbeat. 

Heat had been gathering in his belly, rushing to his groin; the movement of her upper body forced her hips and thighs to rub up against him, the friction  _ just _ this shy of painful. 

“Do you like this?” she murmured. Her voice was low, seductive, but he heard the undercurrent of care within. “Are you enjoying this?”

Affection for her rushed to fill his chest. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I like being with you.”

She pulled away enough that he could see her smile. That ferocious desire still burned in her eyes, making him shiver, but in that moment, her expression flickered into something warm and gentle. 

“I like being with you too.”

She was still for a moment after saying that. Then she shook her head, her hands moving to stroke up his thighs, leaning in to press one more lingering kiss to his lips. It wasn’t until she sat up again that she released him, pulling them further apart, her fingers then going to his towel -- and pulling it clean away. 

His breath caught as her hand encircled the base of his erection. Her thumb stroked once up the length of it, just before her palm began to circle back and forth, rubbing on him slowly at first, then quicker with each stroke. 

He gasped, the warmth low in his belly building, far too swiftly. 

“Babs, I --”

“What do you want me to do?” she murmured, her hand still in motion. “Do you want to come like this?”

“N-no. I want to…” His breath hitched.

“This about you too, sweetheart.” The pet name must’ve just slipped out; he tried to hide the way it and how she said it, with that authoritative kindness in her voice, made his heart strain against his ribs. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to -- with you.” He felt his blush intensify further, and then once more when she spoke again.

“Inside me?”

He swallowed hard, then nodded.

“Alright.” She let go, then bent to kiss him again. “Go get a condom out of my drawer; I’ll be ready for you.”

He slid out from under her, stumbling, practically running to her bedroom. As he rummaged in her drawer, he glanced at the sheets, seeing that they were still rumpled from the night the two had spent together. He exhaled sharply, then darted back to the living room. 

Her pajamas lay in a heap on the floor. She lay across the couch, bare in the spring sunlight, contentedly stretching her arms over her head; he stopped in place to stare. 

Barbara had been beautiful in the dim blue glow of the night, but now, bathed in light, even with her messy hair, unshowered, his breath was stricken away. His eyes took in every inch of her, that which had been shrouded by the shadows of the night, the skin glowing slightly, the freckles like flecks of sun. She shifted slightly in place, glasses now sitting crooked on the straight bridge of her nose. 

When Dick rejoined her, sliding the condom onto himself, she pulled herself up onto his lap, grasping his shoulders in her hands. He reached up -- and very gently plucked the crooked glasses from her nose, watching her blink rapidly, the sparse reddish lashes framing eyes as green as grass. He reached down to place them safely on the coffee table. 

She pressed her lips to the tip of his nose. Then, with a sharp noise in her chest, she hoisted herself up and lowered onto his cock, sighing throatily as she bottomed out. Dick’s fingernails dug into the couch cushions; with his other hand, he clutched her waist, feeling the way it narrowed, then broadened into her full hip. His chest heaved again, feeling her shift and rub against his lap, immobile thighs responding to the movement of her upper body, trying to find the best angle. 

She was hot and velvety around him, deliciously slick. Her pussy rippled around him as she moved, shoulders and upper arms flexing, hands clutching the top of the couch behind him. His grip tightened slightly on her waist before he forced himself to be steady; his fingers caressing along her skin, crossing back-and-forth over the boundary between where she could feel his touch and where she couldn’t. 

When she started to  _ really _ move, flexing her strong arms so that she ground down into his lap, he very audibly,  _ loudly _ gasped -- making her actually giggle, dropping her head. His treacherous heart fluttered. 

“Fuck, but you’re cute,” she said through her smile, moving one hand to brush back her hair. “And uh, you know  _ you _ gotta move too, Dick.”

“Yeah, uh, just...give me a minute.”

He was still for a few more seconds, gazing up at her. Her lips quirked upwards again.

“You had no trouble last night.”

“Oh, well, it was different last night. We were in kind of a hurry, whereas here…” The hand on her waist gently traced its way upwards, along the flat plane of her belly, tracing along the scar. When he cupped her breast again, his thumb stroked slowly along the soft skin. “We have  _ plenty _ of time here. And it’s nice.”

Her smile didn’t drop. 

“Yeah. It kinda is.”

He dared incline his head upwards, and she met him in a soft kiss. She moved a little more slowly against him then, and he was able to thrust upwards, soon in sync. Slow though it was, he was painfully hard inside her, throbbing, hissing through his teeth every time she slid and clenched around him. She was biting her lip, eyes intense with focus even as her blush turned her fair cheeks and chest flower-pink. 

“You’re really hot,” he blurted as she flexed her arms again, as he could feel her  _ dripping _ down him. 

Her eyebrows shot upwards. 

“I mean, not  _ you _ , but your…” He gestured vaguely to where their bodies met. She laughed again, hand flying up to cover her mouth, and seeing that, he simultaneously felt like he wanted to melt into the couch and to wrap her up in his arms, to never let go. “Just... _ fuck _ , you feel incredible around me.  _ Nn, _ God, you’re so _wet._ ”

“You can take at least partial credit for that,” Barbara teased warmly, breathlessly, lifting her hand from her lips to cup his cheek. As they kept moving, it stroked down his neck, one finger sliding along his chest, his abs, before it snaked in between the two of them. His movement became more erratic as he watched her touch her swollen, red clit, finger circling and pressing; she yelped slightly as she did, just as he thrust sharply up into her. 

Dick buried his face in her shoulder and breathed her in, both arms now going to wrap around her back, holding her. She gasped softly, and he felt the heat building in his belly as she moved more quickly again, more desperately.

He just barely managed to hold back until she clenched down  _ hard _ and was coming around him; he cried out and clutched her tighter as he came too, emptying himself for what felt like forever. 

It seemed a long time before they pulled further apart, looking at each other again. They both breathed heavily, but she made no motion to pull herself off his lap, off him, even as he softened inside her. The sun was full and high in the sky now, and her lingering blush, the bedhead, the hazy smile of satisfaction on her lips, all seemed illuminated in his gaze. 

He tucked a strand of tangled hair behind her ear, and she brushed his out of his eyes. 

“Sorry I kept ruining the moment,” he managed to say at last.

“What? Oh. Hey, hey, it’s alright.” She reached in to kiss his nose again and his chest all but ached. “I know what I signed up for. And, more importantly, who I signed up for it with. You don’t have to be anything other than yourself; you don’t have to try to impress me.”

“Oh.”

“But um, for the record…” She shook her head back and looked at him with more than a little slyness. “You  _ have _ been impressing me.”

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ I have, huh?”

“Yeah, don’t go spreading it around,” she huffed as he actually smiled, chuckling. “Now, can you hold still a minute? I need to get off.”

“Wow, and here I thought you just did.”

So caught up were they in their banter that they didn’t notice the footsteps outside their apartment door, nor did they remember that they had left it unlatched. Dick, still looking into Barbara’s eyes as she prepared to climb off him, did not hear the voice coming from the other side of the door until it was too late. 

“-- honey, are you there? You’ll never believe this, but traffic was way better than I’d anticipated; I had a straight shot down the highway from New York to New Jersey. And then it was actually drivable once I got here! Here, in Gotham! Anyway, I hope you don’t mind heading out a little sooner than we planned, because --”

Even so, he didn’t register Donna’s voice at all in his mind until after after the door clicked open, all three people’s heads snapping around to meet each other, unblinking. 

And until  _ after _ Donna dropped all her bags on the floor at once and started yelling. 

Barbara fell off his lap and hit the floor. Dick hastily rooted around for the throw blanket as Donna shouted in an incomprehensible mix of English and Greek, and just barely had pulled it up to cover his groin (the condom still on, unfortunately) before he got to his feet, trying to shout back over her. 

“Donna, Donna, what are you doing here, Donna please calm down --”

“Dick, why the ever-loving  _ hell _ are you doing _ that _ on the  _ couch _ , that your friends and younger siblings  _ sit on _ , in  _ broad daylight _ ,” she managed to get out, hands gesticulating sharply with each enunciated word, “with the windows  _ wide open _ for literally  _ anybody _ on the street to  _ see? _ ”

“They should be so lucky,” Barbara muttered from the floor, scrabbling her glasses up off the coffee table and putting them back on. “Donna, you’re  _ very _ early.”

Donna took a very deep breath, bracing her hands into a steeple in front of her face. Dick stood there, still wearing the blanket, looking down at his feet. 

“Yes, I am. And I wanted to surprise you guys.”

“Well, we’re  _ very _ surprised, believe me,” Dick said, “though probably not as much as you are.”

“ _ I’ll _ say.”

Barbara just sighed and self-consciously pulled a few pillows down to cover herself, sitting up as best she could. 

“Donna, look, we’re sorry you had to find out like this.  _ Extremely _ sorry.”

Donna bit her lip, looking between the two of them, then looking down, her hands smoothing the front of her magenta jacket. She was immaculately dressed as always, wearing a floaty black blouse, slim-fit dark blue jeans and magenta suede pumps, pearlescent highlighter on her cheekbones, her thick black hair styled into soft waves. A very far cry from the two other -- deeply disheveled -- people in the room. 

“Okay,” she said at last, straightening and finally smiling at the two of them in an affectionate  _ what am I going to do about you?  _ kind of way. “I accept your apology. It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Donna tucked a strand of perfect hair behind her ear. “Especially because I elected  _ not _ to bring my three-year-old son along on this visit with me.”

“Oh dear  _ God, _ can you  _ imagine _ ,” Dick groaned while Barbara smirked faintly, clambering back up into her wheelchair, doing a surprisingly good job of keeping the pillows in place. 

“I’m gonna go shower,” she declared, adjusting her glasses with dignity. “You two have fun on your lunch date. Donna, I apologize again, but it was still nice to see you.”

“You two, Babs. Even if, um, I saw more of you than I was planning on.”

Dick stifled a laugh as she rolled away, before turning back to his friend. 

“And  _ you _ , honey,  _ really _ need to get dressed. I don’t think that sunflower-print throw blankets are the usual sort of thing worn at Le Petit Café.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, grinning sheepishly, before moving to go back to his room. 

“Oh, and honey?”

He paused.

“My being traumatized for life aside…” He could hear warmth entering her voice. “I’m happy for you. Oh, and when we get to the restaurant, you gotta tell me  _ everything _ .”

Within the expanse of his chest, his heart seemed to snap free and plummet like a stone. 

* * *

If nothing else was going right, then at least the restaurant was nice. 

They sipped their  _ café au laits _ and ate soft white rolls with crackly crusts, still warm from the oven, as they waited for their meals to arrive. 

“Such a yuppie New Yorker, to pick a place trying so hard to be foreign,” Dick teased her, and she rolled her eyes and flicked bread crumbs at him; he lifted his hands to shield his face and laughed. 

“A yuppie New Yorker raised in Athens. I  _ am _ foreign; dual citizenship,  _ kólos _ ,” she returned, laughing too. “But maybe we  _ should _ give all this up and just go eat hot dogs, is that what you want?”

Really, he couldn’t complain. The walls were painted a deep, luxurious shade of wine-red, the waitstaff were all warm and friendly, and the place smelled of fresh coffee, roasting meat, and baking bread. He and Donna chatted for a while; she talked about how she’d just gotten a deal to exhibit her photos at the Benrubi Gallery in Chelsea and he congratulated her profusely, before remarking that the most exciting thing  _ his _ chosen field had had him do recently was help deliver a baby for the first time, and that one of his fellow male nursing students, who he knew happened to have a pregnant girlfriend, had quite literally fainted onto the floor at the sight. 

“Am I grateful your classmate wasn’t there when I had Robbie.” 

“Right?”

Their food came, and Dick finally started to relax, taking comfort in her presence, able to, just for a moment, leave the storm in his head behind. It was only until they were halfway through their onion soups and  _ croque monsieurs _ that she pounced.

“By the way, honey,” she said, almost without preamble, “I really  _ am _ happy that you finally told Barbara how you feel about her.”

He almost choked on his sandwich. 

“We all know how miserable and high-strung you’ve been, worrying yourself sick about whether or not she loved you too,” she continued. “Wally was threatening to slip powdered Vicodin into your coffee, and Roy suggested just knocking you out. I _ think _ he was joking, but --”

He coughed, ducking his head. His chest suddenly felt compressed, far too small. 

“Roy had  _ better _ not try that shit, or, next time he comes over to flirt with my brother, I really  _ will _ kick his ass.”

“Oh, but he won’t need to try and knock you out now!” She gestured expansively and happily with her coffee cup. “Dick, she’s a wonderful person and friend; I know she makes you happy. So she’s always had my blessing. And now that we  _ know _ that she loves you too…”

Dick couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. Just bent his head. Playing with the edge of the cream colored tablecloth, a lump rising in his throat. 

“Donna, I...I need to talk to you about that, actually.”

He told her everything that had happened, everything that he had agreed to. As he did, he watched her joyful expression melt into confusion, then astonishment, then the sympathy, veering into pity, that finally etched itself into her face. 

“Sweetie, I…”

“It’s okay, really.”

“No, no, it’s not.” She reached across the table, taking his hand in her own. “Sweetie, you should have told her.”

“Donna, she’s made it very clear she doesn’t want anything more than friendship from me.”

“Because you haven’t told her that  _ you _ do,” Donna argued. “You don’t know what she’d say if she knew there was another option. Dick, you love this woman, don’t you?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.” He dropped his head into his hands, sighing, before he dragged his fingers down his face. “Because I do. I think I really, really do.”

“So?”

Dick braced his hands on the table.

“So believe me, if I thought she felt this way too, I’d tell her. But since she clearly doesn’t, I don’t want to try and force her to. I can’t make her love me the way I love her.”

His friend looked at him for a long moment. Then she sighed deeply, lifting her coffee cup back to her lips. 

“I understand. But I still think you’re making a mistake.”

“And I’m sure our friends are going to agree with you.” He took a deep draught from his own. “But I’m not going to change my mind.” 

“Stubborn as always.” Donna’s voice was deep with sadness. She squeezed his hand, her warm fingers interlocked with his own. “Well. I’m going to be in town for a few days before I head back to New York. I’m glad for the opportunities to be with you two, at least.”

“And we’re glad for that too.”

Ignoring the fact that he said  _ we _ , like they were one, like they  _ were _ a couple after all. 

* * *

Barbara was finally fully-clothed, and immersed in a book, when Donna dropped him off at home. 

“Oh, hi guys,” she said, sitting up in the armchair where she’d been curled up. She gently snapped the cover shut, setting it down on the coffee table and pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Have a nice time?”

They exchanged looks. Then Donna spoke, and Dick didn’t stop her. 

“The stupendous awkwardness aside, yes.”

The two women laughed, and Donna’s only sounded slightly forced. 

“Good to know. Want to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, I’d like to, but I promised I’d meet up with Roy and Jason this evening.” She folded her jacket over the top of her arm. 

“Oh, well, I hope you enjoy yourself there, too.”

“I should.” She glanced at Dick one last time, and he saw the sympathy still in her eyes. He closed his. “Glad you’re doing well, Barbara. See you at the movies tomorrow, honey.”

“Bye, Donna.”

The door  _ clicked _ shut behind her. 

Dick took a deep breath, and adopted a jovial tone that he hoped didn’t sound false either. 

“My turn to make dinner?”

“If you please,” she returned, voice light. 

She then picked up her book again as he moved to the kitchen, checking to see what he could make from what they had. He lost himself in the motion of productivity while she was at peace, content with what she was doing. It wasn’t until later, while they were seated at the island together again, enjoying the lemon chicken with chives and rice, their kitchen aromatic with the lingering scents, that she spoke again. 

“So, do you have anything interesting on tap for next week? As interesting as the murder trial I now have lined up?"

“Holy shit, another murder trial already? Uh, definitely nothing as interesting at _that._ But after Donna leaves, I did promise to take Damian to the arcade on Wednesday after school."

“He’s going to love that,” she smiled. “Think you guys could meet up with me and the girls at the mall afterwards? Steph wants to go shopping for a Mother’s Day present, and she asked me and Cass to come along.”

“Sure, Dami’ll like the opportunity to go to the pet store and hold the puppies.”

“He always does.”

Their warm, lively chatter soon smoothed a patch over the ache in his chest. The evening seemed a little less heavy, weighing on him less, as the two of them shared in their familiar, friendly camaraderie. 

For a moment, things seemed normal, nothing seemed wrong. 

Until, as they talked and laughed, she reached across the table to take his hand. And he couldn’t ignore that, in the moment, the gesture felt like nothing like when it had come from Donna. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath. Through the window and the bluing night, the breeze began to whisper. 


End file.
